Ratatouille: Sketches
by Colette Tatou
Summary: RATATOUILLE:: Following Colette and her roommate, Roslin, through culinary school, and what shaped her to become the woman we know and love.
1. Chapter 1

**Ratatouille – Sketches**

**Following Colette and her roommate, Roslin, through culinary school, and what shaped her to be who she is.**

**A/N: So this fic is in ten parts, PLUS an interlude. I'm almost done with the last chapter (I write my fics in a notebook first), so the next chapters will come as soon as I have a satisfactory number of reviews for this first one! Reviews, comments, feedback, observations, criticism, bashing, are much appreciated!**

Chapter 1

That girl was getting on her last nerve. With her bright red hair and annoying girlish giggle, shamelessly flirting with the boys at her table. Colette was sitting at a nearby table, hunched over a textbook, attempting to study in the students' lounge at _L'académie Culinaire de Paris _which was usually quieter. '_Way to give women a bad name...' _thought Colette. That Roslin girl had a way of ticking her off. She epitomized all stereotypes of women: long hair that she flipped constantly, a flirtatious nature, a high-pitched voice, frilly pastel outfits – that is, off-campus and on weekends. During school, while the students were all required to wear cooks' uniforms, Roslin's was much more form-fitting and snug, much to the annoyance of Colette Tatou. '_Why can't she act more professional and wear it like the rest of us?'_

On the other hand, Roslin could not understand Colette. '_Why is she so snooty? She never talks to anyone, and is always scowling. She must be so mean.' _Colette, in her dark, yet classy ensembles, keeping always to herself, and usually very serious. Every time Roslin tried to open friendly conversation with her, she'd get the brush-off from Colette. '_What's her problem? Does she think she's better than us all?'_

When Colette began school at the _académie, _she found herself lucky enough to have a dormitory for herself. At the time, no students needed a roommate, so she was left with one all to herself. That is, until she was notified of one girl that was in need of space... "Roslin Bellamont?! What does she want with my room?!" The dormitory manager explained "her former roommate is a horse-lover and rides frequently. Problem is Roslin is allergic to horses. You are the only student with space."

"_Merde_." Colette was not pleased.

**Please review! There are nine more chapters and an interlude to this, so also, please put the story on alert! Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sketches**

**chapter 2**

Roslin was scared. She did not much like change, but she'd have to get used to living with Colette if she wanted the hives to stop.

Colette crossed her arms at the doorway, scowling as the girl dragged her belongings in.  
Roslin noticed, but tried to make a fresh start between them. "Look, I know you don't like me much and I know you must have really liked having your own room, but I hope we can become friends and learn to share it well!" She held out a hand.

Colette was taken aback by her manners, and also felt a pang of guilt in the pit of her stomach. The girl was never mean to her; Colette didn't mean to be so obvious about her disdain, nor did she realize that she _was _being obvious. Eyeing the girl sideways, Colette slowly accepted her hand, reassuring herself, '_she can't be real. She's just being superficial...' _She still felt resentful that this girl should come and take her precious privacy away. They passed the rest of the night without another word while Roslin unpacked.

In the morning Colette was rudely awakened two hours earlier than usual because "little miss prissy pants" needed to fix her hair. '_Some start..._' thought a groggy Colette.

She saw her again for her first class of the day, Sauté and Flambé Techniques. As she walked into the kitchen, Victor, a class mate, suddenly crossed her path, causing her to stop in her tracks abruptly to avoid walking into him. She shot him a nasty look.   
"_Bonjour, mademoiselle. _How would you like to cook up some _love_ later tonight? Haha—_oofh!" _ Just as he leaned over to her and reached for her hip from behind, he suffered a sharp, well-deserved elbow in the ribs. "_Oohh_..." he whimpered as he hobbled over to his station.

"_Ohh,_ _Les hommes sont les __bébés!_"she muttered tartly under her breath.

_Professeur__ le chef _Favreau now walked into the classroom with his briefcase.   
Colette sighed. Another lesson with Chef Favreau. This instructor always separated his classes into groups by supposed skill level. Oddly enough, the higher level groups seemed to consist of all boys, and the lower, all the girls. It perplexed Colette that she was the only one who seemed affected by this, stung. She scowled as the lesson began, and toward the end, once again the stupid boys were praised for their sautéed _filet mignon_. '_It would not be half as good if the girls did not prepare the produce for them!' _she thought. Colette frowned as she watched Roslin happily chop away at the onions. She had not a care in the world. She was not even remotely aware of the turmoil that was running through Colette's mind.

Colette stormed into her dorm at the end of the day in a huff, surprised to find prissy pants already there, polishing her fingernails. She gagged at the scent of acetone, and ran to open the window with more force than was necessary.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is there a problem?" Roslin asked her, sweetly.

"No," Colette answered, deliberately avoiding Roslin's eye.

"Oh."  
"Yes! – Argh, how do you put up with it!?" she finally exploded.

"With..."  
"With the stupid old men making us do nothing while the stupid boys get praise for their stupid sauté?!"

"Oh, well, I never really noticed..."  
"You never really noticed their bias? Their favoritism – no – _sexism!? _Chauvinistic pigs..._"_

"Um." Roslin was confused. Was this the reason for her roommate's stand-offish-ness?

"Never mind – this is not my day."  
"I'm sorry," Roslin sympathized.

"Eh, don't be." Colette felt slightly guilty about exploding. Roslin did not exactly deserve it. "I'm sorry, I..." the rest was almost inaudible, but Roslin heard a muttering of 'PMS.'   
She put her nail polish away and said, "It's okay, we all get that. Spill."

Colette opened her mouth a few times to speak, as though deciding how to word her current mood, but then sat on her bed. She heaved a loud sigh. Roslin watched, interested.

"Don't you feel degraded in these classes, or am I the only one?"  
"Degraded?" Roslin asked. "Oh, no! I feel like I'm learning something each day!"  
"Ugh," she groaned, falling backwards into a lying down position, her knees off the edge of the twin bed. Colette was exasperated at this point. "Then we can not be more different. I'll tell you. I am here to prove something to myself and to the world," she sat back up, "that I can accomplish anything anyone else can, and more! But how can I do it when those stupid old men don't give us girls a chance?!"  
"Don't they"  
"How can you not see it? We are all stuck doing the dirty work while the professors let the boys do the real thing. Why? I don't know. I guess because they are just men."

"Men?"  
"Yes: Men." Colette sighed again.

Roslin had never heard anyone talk like this before. "What have you got against men?"  
"They treat women like meat. As though we are lesser. They think – especially Victor, that they have the right to just 'take advantage of us, and that we are less talented, incapable of their own skills. You know?"  
"N-no." A pause.

Colette stared at her. Then she gave up. "Okay. We are not seeing eye-to-eye. Never mind." Colette got up to walk away.  
"No, wait. I always thought boys were charming... I never thought – but then, I've never been with any..." Roslin trailed off, slightly embarrassed.

Colette stopped and looked at her, puzzlement in her face. She thought Roslin must have dated many men. "You've never been with a guy before?" she inquired.

"No. I've never really found the right one for me. I mean sure, I've been asked out, but..." Roslin trailed off again. '_I can't believe I'm talking about this with Colette... ironic...'_

"You rejected them?" Colette asked, nosily. The girl was smarter than she took her for. Roslin just shrugged.  
"You sound like you have experience though," she giggled that silly girlish giggle.

"_Moi__? Non."_ Colette responded.

"No boy that you've been with has ever hurt you? I mean, why else would you have opinions of boys?"  
"Well, no one particular boy, per se..." this was getting uncomfortable.

"Then what?"  
Colette hesitated a moment. "My father."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Just a short little sketch this time. Thanks, putmoneyinthypurse, for your nice, constructive reviews! And thanks to everyone else's reviews. This chapter is just a bit more character building, I guess. Just so all of you know, this story doesn't not have a great, epic plot. It's more a collection of conversations/small events/emotions of the characters that I have 'sketched.' **

**Sketches **

**chapter 3**

"...My father."

Roslin was shocked at the answer, and was at a loss for words. "Oh, sorry, I... -you said-... sorry. If it's too weird or hard, you don't have to say any more. I'm sorry I asked." Roslin was truly sorry.

Colette shrugged.

Roslin's eyes were huge with anxious curiosity. "W-What happened?" she asked timidly.

"Mm. Nothing. He left my mother when I was ten. She was devastated... I guess I just lost faith in men in general." Colette admitted it to herself for the first time. Realization dawned on her. Her father was the reason for all her resentment that, until this moment, she simply understood to be part of her personality. She had never verbalized it before, either. It was as if a voice from deep within her subconscious finally freed itself, and brought her to understand something... She shrugged it off again.

Roslin sighed. Tears welled up in her eyes, she said "I can't blame you, you poor thing!"

"No no. Don't worry about me. My mom and older sister took it harder than me. I just... got mad, ehh, defensive instead."

"I can understand."

"Yeah. Well it kind of proves, doesn't it? Men are selfish! My father was only ever thinking of himself. I doubt he ever looked back and thought about the pain he put my family through."

This was easier now for Colette, talking about that plague that struck her family, and yet shaped her future. She looked at Roslin, who wiped a tear from her cheek. The awkwardness crept back into the situation.

"But this is silly, why are we talking about this?" Colette forced a small laugh. Roslin sniffled.

"Hey! Don't worry! It was ages ago. Tell me your stance on men." Colette winced at how girlish the conversation was.

"Oh." Roslin's voice was strained now. "I don't know. I never really looked at the dark side of men much; I think I've been too much of an optimist."

"Well I'm sure that's healthier than my outlook. Heh." Colette told her, truthfully. "Do you want to marry someday?"

"Maybe."

"Oh." Colette was unsure of exactly what else to say. She explained her opinion: "See, I don't want to get married because I just know that a man just wants to use his wife. He would only dominate her life and she'd be his property. I couldn't deal with that. I mean, I have my whole life to live. Being married, I'd have to give up my career and independence to some man and a family."

Roslin was fascinated. "Yeah...," she said, "You are smart. I had never looked at marriage that way before. But I see that you are right. I can't believe how naïve I have been." Her face was suddenly flustered.

'_Wow, this girl is emotional,' _thought Colette.

"But no, Roslin. You are fine. Your outlook is much more balanced than mine. Ah, I should not have gone on in such a tirade. You know, my older sister, Francine, advises me to be more open-minded about boys, and not to close myself off to them. Which seems like what you are doing. So don't change because of me – hah. I am a bad influence." There was a pause. Colette could not believe she was be amiable toward the girl she so resented so soon ago.

Roslin giggled. "Okay. I am glad to talk to you. I think we really could be friends."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes: Hi, everyone. Sorry this took me so long to post up. I've been extremely busy with school and music and work... but here's chapter four. Thanks for all your kind reviews!**

Sketches

chapter 4

It had been three hours that the two were inside on this pleasant afternoon, sitting on the floor and poring over their books and notes which were all spread out before them. Roslin stared dreamily outside.

Midterms were approaching fast. Roslin and Colette had been studying long hours for a particularly boring Health and Nutrition class. It was a sunny day. Through the opened dormitory window, Roslin could hear birds singing and could see the inviting blue sky. She sighed.

She had had enough. "Is there anyone you like?" She broke the silence.

Colette was grateful for the distraction. "Not really. You?"

"Yeah," said Roslin.

They spoke without looking up from their notes (Roslin pretending to be studying and Colette attempting to keep her focus on this nice day).

"Oh? Who?"

"Claude Ravel. He's in Favreau's class with us. He said he liked my blue eyes."

"Roslin, your eyes are green." Colette reminded her.

"Your point?"  
"Never mind... Is he the tall one with the sideburns?"  
"Yes."  
"Hm. I thought he was gay."

"You think? He asked me out for tomorrow night." Roslin twirled her hair with her pencil.

"And?"

"And I'm going."

"Oh. Be careful."

"Of?" Roslin looked up from her notes to eye Colette sideways.

Colette shrugged, "I don't know..." she just felt it the right thing to say. From what she observed in classes, she had a strange feeling about this boy...

"You know, your sister is right," Roslin said. "You should open yourself up to boys. I mean you give advice, but you have never been out with anyone!"

"I still don't trust anyone. I trust my judgment. And so far, I have not met anyone who I know I can trust," said Colette matter-of-factly. She looked up too. They were no longer studying for the moment.

"Well you don't give people a chance! At least talk to some people, make some friends, get to know people, and maybe you will find someone you like. There are plenty of people around this school, and they _must_ have similar interests as you since they are studying the culinary arts..."

"But that's not a priority for me. I'm not interested in a relationship with someone right now. I want to finish school here. I don't have time for any of that business! Roslin, is that your entire focus? Tell me. Why are you here?" Colette was struck with the thought.

Roslin answered, "To see where it may take me! I know this is what I like. And...," she had a faraway look in her eyes, "I want to find someone and start a family and have a home so I can host great parties and cook great meals for my friends and relatives!" She sighed.

"HAHAA!" Colette rolled around on the floor, over her books and notes in a fit of laughter. "_Mon dieu,_ you are a hopeless romantic."

"Well you are a sad cynic."

Colette stopped laughing. "_Touché._ But actually, I prefer 'realist'. I only state the truth. Seriously though, you are working so hard just to be a good hostess and homemaker!? That's sad, Roslin."

Roslin frowned. "_What's_ sad?" she asked.

"That your ambitions should be so low. You are better than that! You're a hard worker and really smart."  
"So?"

"_So, _your talents in the culinary arts deserve a more sophisticated audience than dinner guests and kids. Don't you want to have a real career? Make something of yourself? Have an identity??" Colette's face was contorted in a disbelieving frown.

"What makes you think being a mom is not hard work?" said Roslin.

"I'm sure it's work, but it's not dignified enough for you, and you'd never get the recognition you deserve!" Colette said with raised brows. This should have been second nature...

Roslin saw it differently. "I don't do this for recognition or praise. For me it is about self-satisfaction. If I can entertain my guests and please my husband and children, I will be content. That would make me happy."

Colette was taken aback. Struck by a new understanding, and after a pause, she said, "That is admirable... and brave, in a way..."

"I'm glad you're opening up to other opinions." said Roslin.

"No, I'm not. Don't get the wrong impression."

The friends shared a chuckle.

"Come on, we need to memorize these regulations."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes:**** Hi, everyone! Sorry about the long wait between chapters. I've been extremely busy. But now I'm on spring break, and I have a bit of down time to get chapters up! So depending on how much feedback I get on this, I'll maybe even post up chapter six! It would be very helpful if you'd story-alert this, so you can be notified of when there's more to read. Thanks to all my lovely reviewers, too! It means so much to me! Sarah E., FunnyGirl77, Mindy C.H., Cryptic Calico, Sadana Keant. Thanks so much, all of you!**

**So here's chapter five. It's getting a little bit "plotty" now, if you'll allow me to invent that word... Enjoy!**

Sketches

Chapter 5

Saturday - 5:45 pm

The small dormitory was much altered once Roslin moved in. Before, Colette had slept in the bottom bunk and used the dresser top as a bookshelf. Now, Roslin occupied the top bunk, and converted the top of the dresser into a small make-shift vanity, her make-up and beauty products spread across the bruised wooden surface, and atop it, a mirror leaning against the wall. Colette's books and newspapers were moved under her bed.

Colette lifted her eyes from the Sappho in her hands to observe from her bed as Roslin carefully applied pink shimmery powder to her eyes, then lined her eyelashes with a pencil, and painted her lips with a pale pink-tinted gloss.

"Is a man really worth all this?" Colette pondered aloud. 

"I don't think it has much to do with Claude," Roslin replied, continuing to primp, "I think it is more about making _me_ feel pretty... or, ehh, confident," she added, spraying a light perfume on her throat. "But you know that – you wear make-up."

"Just a little. I guess it does boost up your confidence doesn't it? Otherwise I wouldn't wear any... Where is this guy taking you?"

"The cinema. Then some restaurant." Roslin's attempt to sound casual failed with the hint of nervous excitement in her voice. 

"First big-girl date -- that's big..." Colette exclaimed. After a pause, she resumed, "Be careful."

Roslin froze from trying on various skirts, turned to Colette, and said, suddenly worried, "Of what? You just said that the other day."

Colette avoided her stare. "I know."

"Well, be careful of what?"

"I don't know exactly." Colette's tone was low, sincere. "But listen. You're my friend now, almost like one of my sisters. Be careful not to get your hopes too high, I guess. I'm afraid you may be let down."

"Hey, wait a second! What are you saying?" Roslin snapped, suddenly on the defensive.

"Easy!" said Colette, "Just that I don't want you to get hurt." She didn't want to add that she thought Roslin was too trusting of people. _Why is Roslin so edgy all of a sudden?_

"Why would I get hurt? Claude likes me! He asked me out, didn't he! He would not do anything to hurt me!" Her cheeks were suddenly tinted red with agitation. 

"Excuse me, how long have you known this Claude?" 

Roslin looked at her hard, a look of indignation on her brow. She turned around to leave. As she reached for her purse, Colette said, "Hey, if you need anything call me here."

Roslin walked out, shutting the door behind her with more force than was necessary.

* * *

Colette was left in the silence of the room, a heavy feeling in her stomach. She prided herself for always maintaining a cool and collected façade, but could never privately deny the hot and bothered feeling inside her after any confrontation.

There was something about this Claude that gave her a bad feeling. She supposed it was that odd glint (of lust) in his eye whenever he glanced at Roslin in their class... and it was hardly ever directed at her eyes, but somewhere lower. _That girl should not be so eager to trust people._

Colette shrugged it off and busied herself again with the book of Sappho.

* * *

It was 6:20. Roslin was standing out in front of the elevator in the parking structure for student housing. She checked the watch on her slender wrist and noticed she had goose bumps; the night air was chilly. "_He should have been here twenty minutes ago..." _said a voice in her head. Roslin chose to ignore it. She continued to wait. _Not the most appealing (or romantic) choice of rendezvous, but quite pragmatic," _she thought, always the optimist. 

A while later, a car pulled up toward her. Claude honked the horn, signaling her to enter. She cringed a moment at the crude invitation, the accepted. She carefully pulled open the door of his old dirty vehicle, and sat down gingerly in the passenger seat. He watched her. 

"Hey baby," the boy said in a far-from-apologetic-for-being-late tone of voice.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello! Thanks for all the nice reviews on the previous chapters! Here is chapter six. A little more dramatic this time around. Enjoy!**

Sketches

chapter 6

The phone in the dormitory rang.

"_Allô__?_" Colette answered.

"It's Roslin. Please get a cab and come get me at the theater."

"What's—"

"I will explain later."

"I'm coming." Colette hung up the phone, grabbed a sweater, her bag, and keys, and ran outside to hail a cab.

"The cinema on _Rue des Ecoles," _she told the driver.

Once they arrived at the theater, Colette saw Roslin standing outside, clutching onto herself, her hands tightly clasping her elbows. Colette opened the door of the car and waved to her; she noticed the air was not very cold. Roslin's eyes were fixed on the ground as she rushed into the cab. Her jaw was clenched and her complexion pale.

"What happened?" Colette asked her. "What's wrong? Are you sick?"

Roslin shook her head. "Later," she said.

Again inside the dormitory, Colette asked Roslin, "Did you eat?"

Roslin sat down on Colette's bottom bunk. Still clutching herself, she shook her head, no.

"I'll get soup. Be right back." With that, Colette rushed out.

The frail redhead lied down, eyes wide open, very stiff.

When Colette came back in, carrying a small cup of store-bought soup, she found her roommate collapsed on her bed trembling.

"Roslin, what happened?" she asked. "You know, I did not actually expect you to call, I just said that as a precautionary—"

"Colette, you were right," Roslin interrupted. "Men _are_ only after one thing!" Roslin had been weeping, but now she burst into tears, holding her face in her hands.

"_Mon dieu_, what did he _do_ to you? Tell me everything." Colette placed her arms around Roslin's tiny shuddering shoulders.

"Everything?" Roslin looked up, her eyes red, her lips puffy, and her complexion blotchy. Colette nodded. Roslin turned to face her roommate, but looked down at the floor. "Oh, Colette, he must have thought I am some type of cheap slut or he wouldn't have asked me out!" she cried some more.

Colette rubbed her back kindly, while inwardly fuming at the boy before she even knew what he had done. "Calm down. It's okay. Tell me..."

Roslin sniffed. "First he picked me up in the parking structure twenty minutes late—"

"You were outside in the cold for twenty minutes?! Eat the soup."

Roslin's hands shook as she brought a spoonful to her lips. Eventually she calmed down.  
"Are you better?" Colette, who had watched her eating asked, "He picked you up late, then what?"

"Then he drove to the cinema and – and – in the car, he touched me, and—" her voice was strained. Colette could tell this was hard for her. "He—he said 'hey baby, you want to try something?'" Colette scoffed at this. Roslin continued, "I just slipped out of the car, brushed it off. We went into the theater, watched the movie, but he wouldn't keep his damn fingers off my thigh! He constantly – he – Ahh! I can't even say it!" Roslin looked directly into her friend's eyes, "He groped me," she whispered. "He said, 'after this, I'll take you to my place.'  
"I was so tense; I don't even know what the stupid movie was about. When it was over, I just ran out into the restroom at the theater and called you from there. I told him to leave without me. Wasn't feeling well. Roommate would pick me up."

"Roslin..." Colette looked at her hard. Shaking her head, she asked, "Why did you put up with it? Why didn't you just leave when it started?"

"I don't know... I was scared... didn't want to make a scene... sort of paralyzed. Pretty stupid yeah?"

Colette stood up. "That idiot boy, I will kill him if he ever tries a stunt like that on anyone again! Goddamned son of a bitch. Messing around with _my_ friend..." She stopped when she noticed Roslin staring shame-facedly at the floor again.

"Colette, I should have listened to you in the beginning. I was so naive."

"Eh... I can't really blame you. You're too nice to just walk out. You poor thing," Colette wrapped her arms around Roslin in a comforting, sister-like embrace. It was like one of those lonely nights at home when Maman had been crying, and she and her sisters only had each other for comfort. Colette's heart felt sad when she remembered Roslin had no siblings. She absently smoothed her long red locks with one had as Roslin's back shook lightly with a fresh batch of tears. It was not long thereafter that Colette realized her eyes were blurry and her face was wet as well...

Out of nowhere, a laugh broke out of Colette's lips. Another giggle followed. Roslin broke the embrace and looked up, wiping off a tear with the back of her hand. "What?" she asked while Colette began a full-fledged fit of giggles, clutching her stomach and rocking back and forth on the floor, her face shiny with tears.

"Look at me! I never cry!" more giggles. "I'm sorry Roslin, it's just too weird!" Roslin began to join in the laughter. Soon both girls were rolling around on the floor laughing, momentarily forgetting the night's events.

"Hahaa! Do you think you could call this PMS?"  
"That would be a nice cover-up for insanity!"

"_Touché! _Hahahaa!"

Later, things calmed down again. The girls went to bed, emotionally exhausted.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Notes: Hello

_**Author's Notes: Hello! I've been so dreadfully busy these past couple weeks with all these school assignments, projects, and music, plus work every weekend taking up all my free time. But finally I have a couple hours before an appointment in which I will type up this new chapter. Some more character development and background ahoy! I just couldn't get enough of writing it! Then after that, I promise there will be more new characters and interesting scenarios... Thanks for all the **__**lovely**__**lovely**__**lovely**__** reviews!**_

Sketches

Chapter 7

8:30 am Sunday

Colette woke up with a start from the blinds of the small window being thrown open. "Mmnaugh."

"Morning!" Roslin was already dressed, as usual, but had not yet done her hair. It was still frizzy and tangled from sleeping. "Coffee?" she offered her sleepy roommate.

"Mmm..." Colette grumbled, "'m not a morning person." She accepted the coffee with a yawn and a small "_merci_."

"I know that, Sleepyhead!" Roslin said, laughing at Colette's mood, "But I wanted to thank you. You really helped me last night." Her expression grew somber again with remembrance of the events of the previous evening.

"Hey, don't worry about it." The coffee was helping Colette out of her current state.

"No, really. I don't know what I would've done without you." A pause. It felt awkward that early in the morning...

"Okay, okay, enough of this," Colette said suddenly. Roslin smiled. "What's with your hair?" asked Colette. She knew it would not offend Roslin, "It's just that you always have it perfectly coiffed by this time of the morning."

"I thought I'd do it a little later," she answered. "Colette, what is the story about your hair, anyway? It would be lovely if you grew it out."

Colette raised her eyebrows at Roslin. "And look like all the other girls? No, not for me..." she took a sip of coffee.

"What's wrong with all the other girls?" As soon as she had said it, Roslin mentally kick herself. She could sense a rant coming...

"They are all the same and I am not like them. It seems like most girls in our age-group grow their hair out really long. It all ends up looking alike! There's that, plus the bob represents female strength – why can't women wear their hair short like men? At least that was the idea in the nineteen-twenties. Anyway, my point is I'm not like everyone else, so I don't want to like to look like everyone else. I'm an individual – not a trend-follower."

Roslin smirked, "You have such strong opinions on everything. Just relax!"

"I can't help it." Colette shrugged.

"Where do you get it cut?"

"At _L'Appartement 217._ My younger sister, Pauline, used to work there."

Roslin was interested. She did not know much about Colette's sisters. "She's a hair dresser?"

"Hair _stylist_. She's an artist, unlike the silly snobs you get at cheap salons. She's actually now studying in Germany under Vidal Sassoon. At one of his schools. I think she'll be pretty successful."

"Wow," Roslin exclaimed. "Remind me. How many sisters do you have?"

"Three. One older, two younger," she answered, a small lump forming in her throat. She missed them, but liked talking about them. A smile played on her lips as she silently reminisced for a moment.

"Which one is the hair dresser?"

"Stylist," Colette corrected her automatically, jolting herself out of her reverie. The lump went away. "Pauline. She's the one born after me. My older sister, Francine, is a journalist and magazine editor for the politics section of _Libération_ newspaper. And my youngest baby sister, Magdalena – we call her Magda – she plays the drums. All kinds. She's still in high school. Plays for a bunch of bands and school gigs. She's pretty talented. And a tomboy." Colette laughed.

"Wow," Roslin said again.

"What?" Colette wondered what Roslin found so interesting.

"You're so lucky! I wish I had sisters! You shouldn't take them for granted!"

Colette just smiled sadly.

Roslin noticed. "You miss them don't you?"

"Sure, I do," Colette shrugged, "Maman too."

"Anyway," Roslin interrupted, suddenly bubbly again, "You should grow your hair out since it's so glossy. It would catch the light really nice."

"Haha," Colette chuckled. "Not going to happen."

"Suit yourself." Roslin smiled.

"What about your family, Roslin? Have you any brothers or sisters?"

"Oh no. Just me, Maman, Papa, and Grandmére."

"Hm." Colette knew very little about Roslin's family.

"But my Grandmére basically raised me like a mom. I mean, a second mom. My mom was always around too, but Grandmére was equally as motherly to me."

"Oh. That's good. How about your dad?"

Roslin's face lit up. "Oh, he and I get along so well and we always have! When I was little, he'd call me 'Petit Rosie' because I was pretty tiny and my hair – you get it. We just are such good friends. And he loves my mom so much. They've gotten older now, but when I was little, they would both dress up and go to fancy parties, my mom in a floor-length gown and my dad in a tuxedo. I would swear they were a king and queen. So they would go to parties, and Grandmére and I would bake at home. Our classes here don't give us the chance to bake desserts often, but my Grandmére taught me how to make the most exquisite crepes. You must try them. Anyway, she taught me all the rules of hosting and etiquette from her days and that's what instilled my hospitality skills in me."

Colette said, "So she was the one who inspired you to come here."

"Yes. I realized it is what I love."

"How sweet." Colette didn't mean for it to sound sarcastic; positive remarks from her always seemed to come across that way.

But Roslin was unfazed. "Grandmére is ailing now," she said.

"Oh," Colette uttered, "I'm sorry." _What a change of tone,_ she thought.

"Yes. She's been paying my tuition here. So I try to make her proud."

"That's a good motivation to work hard..." Colette felt like changing the topic now.

"Sorry about rambling. It's been a while since I've talked about them," Roslin smilingly told Colette.

Colette asked, "You miss your family too, yes?"

"Of course."

"So why do you look so happy?" Colette didn't understand. Talking about here sisters and mom made her distracted and sad. How could Roslin talk about her family and ailing grandmother with a smile on her face?

"I guess it just feels good to – I don't know – articulate the feelings. Get them out in the open. Reminisce. Don't you think? Or maybe it's sharing them with another person. I don't know!"

_Our differences are endless,_ thought Colette.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Notes**: Well, here's chapter 8. After this, there's chapter 9, an interlude, and finally, chapter 10! This fic is almost over. Enjoy!

Sketches

Chapter 8

Monday morning. 7:56 a.m.

Roslin was still in bed – again unusual for her.

"Wake up!" a dressed and ready Colette urged, "We have to be there in twenty minutes! What's wrong with you?"

"Don' wann.. go..." mumbled the lump under the sheets.

"Yeah, yeah, I hate Mondays too, but—"

"No!" Roslin cried. She lifted the blanket off her head. "I can't face _him."_

Colette was puzzled for a moment in her rush for class, "What."

Roslin got up to give her a meaningful look.

"Oh..." Realization of who 'him' was sunk in. They hadn't talked about Roslin's date for the rest of the weekend; it was too upsetting. Colette's stomach turned with anger toward the idiot boy. What made him think he could mess with her friend?

"Listen," Colette announced suddenly businesslike and loud again, "You need to get up right now. We are already going to be late."

As she stood up from bed, Roslin asked "What am I going to do when I see hi—"

"Talk while you dress," Colette threw clothes at her. "And to answer your question, you will proceed with life as if nothing has happened. You don't have to say anything. If he wants to talk, let me handle it."

"You? What would you say? You weren't there."

"I have a few things on my mind."

Ten minutes later the two were out of the dormitory, making their way down the street to the school.  
They were nearing the kitchen-classroom. Colette looked at Roslin who had an odd glazed-over look in her eyes; she looked a little green.

"Are you okay?" Colette asked her. No response. "Look. It's just another day of class like every day."

Still looking ahead with the same wide-eyed expression, Roslin said, "I don't know if I can stand to even see him again. If he talks to me, what will I do?!"

"Hey, relax. I will take care of him."

"Maybe I'll drop out of the class..."

"You'll what?! Just because that idiot boy is in the class? No you won't!" Colette threw her head back and groaned. "First of all, you are being silly. He can't bother you in class while everyone is around – especially me. Second, if he does, he'll have to _answer_ to me. And third, if you really physically can not stand to see him anymore, and it comes down to somebody dropping the class, I will see to it _myself _that it is he. Why should you give up the class when _he_ is the one who offended you? Why should _you_ be on the receiving end of that kind of punishment when it was _he_ who caused you so much distress?!"

"Colette, calm down," Roslin mumbled, slightly annoyed. "Okay, I'll go to class."

"Good. And I'll stick by you the entire time. Just show the idiot boy that you are strong. You know, hold your head up and do your work the best you can, like you always do. Show him and the stupid old man how much more skilled you are than them. They'll see. We are not weak women to be taken liberties from!"

Roslin finally smiled and rolled her eyes.

"Let's go," said Colette, pushing through the double doors of the kitchen.

When the two entered the kitchen, many eyes looked up from notes, and Chef Favreau's lecture was interrupted.

"_Bonjour, Mademoiselles_. Have you slept well?" he sneered, deliberately attempting to humiliate them. Roslin blushed.

"_Oui. Merci, chef_," Colette snapped. She was scary this morning. She gave Roslin, who was shuffling her feet, a little push towards their regular station. "Please, continue," Colette said to Favreau.

Eyebrows raised, Favreau continued his lecture on the proper methods of cooking the fish _en papillote._

As Roslin and Colette got settled behind their table-top, getting out notebooks and pens, Colette scanned the room for Claude Ravel... and, just to be safe, Victor. Roslin just looked straight at her notes.

"_There he is_," thought Colette, spotting the idiot boy at a table adjacent to Roslin's position. There he was, eyeing her. Colette thought she could read his thoughts from the shameless expression on his face: "_The other night was interrupted, but she's easy. I'll just try her again..."_

And there was Victor behind Colette, smiling stupidly at her. Colette shot him a nasty look. The kid was harmless, she knew, just an idiot. But she hated him nonetheless. She moved to the other side of Roslin, making it so that neither idiot boy could see the female of his pursuit.

"Mademoiselles Valenti, Tatou, Bellamont, Champlain, et Monsieur Thomas—peeling and chopping the potatoes, and scaling the salmon. The rest of you, over to the ovens, and I will instruct you on how to marinate the fish and how to use the parchment until the produce is ready." Chef Favreau demanded.

The only four girls in the class, and that one boy, were once again left out of the real lesson. Charles Thomas, being male, should not have been in their group, but Favreau found him untalented. Colette let out an involuntary scoff, louder than she would have intended.

"Problem, Mademoiselle Tatou?"

"Oh, no, chef. I don't think we girls are _ready_ for a challenge like that. No. I believe you were right about giving us the lowly preparation jobs. It is our place," At the last sentence, she bowed her head in a mockingly demure and submissive fashion.

Roslin stared at Colette sharply. "_Colette!"_

"Are you implying something Mademoiselle?" asked Favreau.

"No, chef. I simply do not think the girls here could cook the fish as well as the boys."

A low murmur filled the kitchen. Murmurs of "she's done it now" and "here she goes again..."

Chef Favreau was infuriated. "Drop that sarcasm, mademoiselle."

"Oui, chef." Colette was embarrassed, but impassioned still. "_Chauvinist!" _she muttered almost inaudibly under her breath, after Favreau had turned his back to her.

He stopped. "Something else to say before I begin my class?" he shouted at her.

"Oui." She took a deep breath. She found herself once again in one of those cracking points from stress. Everything from the change of living arrangements to studying for midterms, to the anger towards Claude Ravel, and missing her sisters all added up. She could not bottle up the feeling of degradation in Favreau's class any longer. "These ladies and I – and Thomas – are just as capable of preparing meals as your boys in the advanced group!"

"I do not think it," Favreau replied curtly. "You have not yet worked up to—"

"How can we move up if we are not even given a chance?!" she interrupted. The class was in awe, many with jaws dropped. Roslin's eyes were fixed on the floor, as they had been so often of late. "_She is going to get herself expelled..." _Roslin thought, her heart racing with anxiety for her best friend, as she twitched nervously.

A silence filled the kitchen. After what felt like hours to Colette, the chef spoke. "Do the rest of you feel likewise?" he addressed the ladies and Charles Thomas.  
"_Progress. Triumph!"_ Colette's inner voice cheered. But none of them answered. The chef had never shown them any attention or even answered a question. The most he had done was assign them tasks and complain if something was not done his way. "Speak up!" he demanded.

"Go on," urged Colette.

Roslin mustered up all the strength that had rubbed off from her roommate and breathed. She said, "Chef, I believe we are ready to move on to at least more advanced techniques."

Cecilia Valenti, an olive-skinned Italian girl also said, "Sí, chef. We have been doing the prep. work all semester; I think we have mastered it."

The others were gaining courage. Marie Champlain , a studious, broad-shouldered blonde said, "Maybe after midterms, we might move up to join the other group?"

Colette was beaming like the leader of some sort of peasant revolt when he (or perhaps it would be better to say she) has achieved victory. Their words seemed to be penetrating Chef Favreau's thick head. He stood there, arms folded across his chest, one hand rubbing his fat, white chin.

But they had not won yet. All had spoken but one. "Monsieur Thomas?" grunted Favreau.

Poor Charles Thomas, who had also been examining the floor tiles throughout the entire confrontation, stirred. He had hoped not to be asked to speak, but knew this was his only chance. The boy respected his fellow female group members. He knew they were great talents. Roslin especially shone in his eyes. But his male pride still hurt, knowing the fact that he was the only man in the lower level group with all these other girls. And he hated himself for feeling that humiliation.

He remembered the courage the girls had, confronting Favreau. Eyes still fixed on the floor, he adjusted his glasses on his small nose and said, "Chef, with all due respect, my group and I feel quite comfortable as far as prep. If you believe us to be ready, we may thrive at the stoves, too." He lifted his light blue eyes to see the class's reaction.

Colette was beaming. She nodded approvingly at him. He looked at his sweet Roslin who wore a kind expression. His heart leapt and he looked away.

"Hm." Favreau grumbled.

Colette spoke again, "Chef, we deserve a chance to prove our talents which, so far, have been confined to chopping and peeling. All this semester, we have been preparing the produce for those boys. Now though, I wonder if they could handle what we have been mastering all season."

Again there was a silence during which Colette held her breath. Roslin no longer felt scared, but hopeful. Perhaps this was all a stage that would end – everything bad that had occurred all semester would be cancelled out by something good. Perhaps this would be the turning of a new leaf!

Favreau released his arms from their crossed position and placed both hands on the tabletop across from Colette, who also had her hands on the surface. The two appeared to be in a staring match. "I will make a deal with you all," said Favreau. "I am a fair man."

Colette inwardly rolled her eyes. _"Fair, my ass," _thought she.

Favreau continued, "Do exceptionally well – I mean _exceptionally_ well – on the midterm exam, and I might reevaluate the group arrangements of this class.

"Now, dismissed. Mademoiselle Tatou has used up the majority of out time with this chat, so it is useless to continue today. Use the time to study! You will need it." The chef exited the kitchen.

Roslin and Colette exchanged glances of 'how about that?'.

As they gathered their belongings to leave, excited conversation broke out among the class. The girls laughed and talked both about their excitement for a possible change in position in the class and of their happiness for having an extra half hour to spare.

Charles Thomas lingered around so that he may speak with the girl he so adored. Eventually, the kitchen cleared up, but Roslin and Colette stayed behind. Beaming, Colette exclaimed, "Excellent, Charles! I don't think I have ever heard you speak up for yourself."

"You still haven't. I was speaking up for our group," he said with a shy smile.

"This is true."

Colette was very admirable, but not in the way Roslin was. To him, Roslin was the definition of perfection. Her face, angelic. Her voice, clear. Her movement, the most graceful. He wanted to know her better. What was she at the Academie for? What were her plans after school? Whom had she dated in the past? What was her favorite color?!

"Are you two heading back to the dorms with the extra time, or what?" he asked, a curious sparkle in his blue eyes.

"Hmm. I don't know. What did you want to do, Ros?

"I don't know either. I guess I'd better go to the café, eat something."

"Oh, that's right, I almost forgot," Colette explained to Charles, "We got a late start this Monday morning, and didn't get a chance to eat, thanks to mademoiselle, here."

They laughed.

"Let's go then," Colette said.

They began to head out. Roslin turned around, "Do you want to join us, Charles?"

"Oh," he said. Words could not express his feeling of elation at hearing his name uttered in such dulcet tones as did ring from that pretty mouth! "Sure!"

And the three walked from the kitchen to the campus café together, chattering with conversation all along the way.


	9. Chapter 9

Sketches  
chapter 9

Roslin, Colette, and Charles, walked outside the kitchen along several other buildings of classrooms and offices. The academie was one of the finest in France. In its history, only very talented students were admitted to study there. More recently, however, because of lower numbers of applicants, the school began accepting more and more students, regardless of their talent or potential. This, all the bright students knew, was why they shared classes with vermin like Claude Ravel. It did not make the school any less prestigious, though, because the caliber of the instruction and facilities remained excellent.

All this made the topic of conversation among the trio as they crossed the garden to the café. The morning sun lighted their faces and made them squint. Charles could not peel his pale blue eyes off of Roslin. Her face was radiant. The apples of her cheeks shone pink from the slight fall chill and from the light of the bright sun. Her green eyes sparkled as she laughed at Colette's rambling jokes (for Colette was in a good mood). Roslin appeared like a goddess to him.

Just as they turned the corner to reach the door of the café, they were interrupted. Claude Ravel appeared, lurking on the other side of the building's corner. He stopped Roslin by grabbing her around the waist as she passed. He stared at her chest.

"Ah!" she squeaked.

"HEY!" Colette shouted at him. She had almost forgotten the thing they were most concerned with that morning. "What the hell is your problem?!" Colette's good mood was gone. She jabbed him hard in the chest with two fingers, right as he began shifting his hands lower on Roslin's body. Roslin was struggling, but was scared. "Get off of her!" Colette grabbed her friend's arm and yanked her out of the man's grip.

"Hey, bitch, I was just saying hi," he said, still staring at Roslin, with a lusty look in his eyes. His mouth was twisted in a wry smile.

"No!" Colette screamed. "Who the hell do you think you are, Don Juan? You have no right to treat a girl like that!" Roslin trembled as Colette held her in a protective embrace. "Learn some respect! What are you even doing at this school? Just harassing girls? Well let me tell you something..."

Here, Colette released Roslin who proceeded to weep. Charles now held her and comforted her, patting and rocking her gently. She hid her face.

Colette was still screaming, "All the girls here are worth way more than you because they all have a purpose and have some dignity! You are pathetic and disgusting. You chauvinistic pig, you sicken me. I swear, I will report you and get you expelled! Vermin like you don't deserve to study here.

"And getting back to your treatment of women – what makes you think you have the right to grab a girl like she's a piece of meat and handle her like that? She is worth a thousand times more than you, and deserves to be respected as such! Her body is a shrine that you have violated! Does that not mean anything to you?! Ugh, get lost; I can't even stand the sight of you. Let's go, Ros."

Ravel, who had endured enough insult and finger-pointing in his face, flipped her off and swore rudely at her, "Nasty whore."

He had done it. Colette turned on her heel, walked back toward him and slapped him square on the side of his face, then re-joined her friends. Ravel was too dumbfounded to move. The three headed toward the dormitories, Colette several paces ahead. Charles and Roslin heard mutterings of "disgusting... insolent... chauvinism... take advantage... not to my friend!... disrespect... not to mention sexual harassment... ought to carry _mace_ around, I swear..."

Colette suddenly stopped in her tracks and said, "You know what? Why wait? I will go and report him to the campus police right now. You two go to the dorms. Here are the keys. I'll meet you later. And I'll get food," she added hastily. And she began to run toward the main offices.

Roslin and Charles continued down to the dormitory.

"You have a good roommate," Charles said timidly.

"Yes," Roslin replied. "She's like a sister. Takes care of me," she smiled somewhat sadly.

They reached the dormitory. Roslin's hands were still shaking. He took the key and opened the door for her.

Charles was terribly curious. "Are you alright?" he asked as they entered the room.

"I'm fine. It was silly. I shouldn't have cried... was overreacting. I suppose I'm sort of traumatized." She spoke quietly.

"Traumatized?"

With difficulty, Roslin told of the previous weekend's events, of what Ravel did, and how Colette helped her calm down afterwards.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked," Charles truly was sorry.

"It's alright," Roslin smiled at him.

For a while, the two sat in silence, side by side on Roslin's bed, both appreciating the peaceful presence of the other. Words were not necessary.

There was a knocking at the door. "It's me, Colette!" Charles opened the door for her. She rushed in holding bags of food for them. She explained, "I've spoken with the president of the school (he was actually there at the campus police's office!) and they said they will take measures in the direction of getting him expelled. Finally, some justice!"

"Good for you," Charles said.

"_Merci_, Colette," Roslin said.

Colette waved it off. Again in a good mood, she said, "Here. Eat."

But Roslin moved over and wrapped her arms around her roommate in a warm, meaningful hug that seemed to say "thank you. And I appreciate your friendship so much."


	10. Interlude

Sketches

Sketches

Interlude

In the next months, a few things happened at _L'academie Culinaire de Paris._ Claude Ravel managed to get himself expelled when caught by the president harassing a couple of girls. Charles and Roslin fell in love and began seriously dating. Colette continued to work hard, not allowing herself any distractions. As midterms loomed ever nearer, the days were longer and quieter, as all the students were focused on studying.

After the midterm exams were over, Professor le Chef Favreau admitted many of the girls (including Roslin and Colette) and Charles into his advanced group, and moved a good number of the boys back down to his lower level group. The rest of the semester, they thrived not only in Favreau's class, but in all their classes.

At the end of the semester, both Colette and Roslin received recognition for their cooking at one of the campus's restaurants, and landed internships at Le Cinq Restaurant which kept them busy through their second year at the academy.

Life continued in this way, studying at school, working on campus, and intern work at Le Cinq, all through their last spring semester.

A warm June morning brought the Curriculum Completion Ceremony, where they were to receive their Certificates of Mastery. A selective few students sat in the hall in all their best attire. The ceremony was set in a breakfast setting and included many famed culinary artists, most of whom were patrons of the school. They began speeches and toasts. Auguste Gusteau was present. He made a speech on how his real passion for cooking was sparked at this school and on why he believed it produced such skill in its students. His expressions and arm-gestures were nauseatingly flamboyant, but all his words were so true, Colette mused. Other professors and important faculty members also spoke.

Finally, the awards were given in order by last name. Colette and Charles watched as a tearful Roslin Bellamont walked up in a pale blue dress to receive her certificate. Colette smiled as she applauded her. _How like her to cry at something like this, _she thought. Then she looked to her right and saw Charles wipe a tear from his cheek. She stifled a chuckle. _So perfect for each other..._

Not long after, Colette Tatou was announced by the president of the school. Colette stood in her white blouse and black dress slacks, walked to the head table, and received her certificate. She shook hands with all the important guests, thanking them as they congratulated her.

Once all the formalities were through, the friends temporarily parted to receive kisses and hugs from their loved ones. Colette's mother, and her youngest sister, Magdalena met her. "Where are Francine et Pauline?" Colette asked.

Her mother answered, "Both busy with work," and she wrapped Colette in yet another hug, saying, "I'm so proud of my girls, all working and independent!"

"Ah, Maman! This is nothing! I have to get a real job first—," Just then, a very large man approached the little group.

"Auguste Gusteau," he introduced himself and held out his hand.

"Pleased to meet you," they all said, taking turns to shake his hand. Colette was the most pleased; Gusteau was one of the few men in the culinary world that she genuinely respected, because of his philosophy: Anyone can cook. That, and because he was known for being grounded. He was not one of those chefs who contributed to the snooty haute cuisine stereotype. Rather, he was a real artist.

He addressed Colette's mother. "You are Madame Tatou, I presume?" His politeness was almost shocking. Irénée Tatou, a woman of medium height and a firm, stout figure, actually faltered slightly. She collected herself, "Oui."

"You should be proud! Your daughter is very talented. I had the pleasure of tasting her cooking at the Campus Center Restaurant recently and enjoyed the most wonderful boeuf bourguignon! Mademoiselle, was the marinade your own?"

"Oui, chef."

"_Magnifique_. I am so glad it was. But also, the mushrooms. Perfectly seasoned! And it pleases me so much that you did the _buerre manie_. So many ignore that part of the recipe, but it works much better when it is included!

"The dish was exquisite. So precisely measured and technical, but in the best way possible! It is your style, _ce n'est pas?_"

He returned once again to addressing the three of them, "I believe in nourishing new talents, and that she may flourish in my kitchen." Then back to Colette alone, "I encourage you to visit one day."

"I will! _Merci, chef!" _Colette nodded. Gusteau walked away, off to socialize with others.

Magda took Colette's hand and squeezed it. Magdalena beamed at her older sister, who was in a state of disbelief. Madame Tatou exclaimed, "I say again. I'm proud of my girls."

Colette began to scan the room for Roslin. She quickly spotted her conversing quietly with two mild-mannered people, obviously her parents: the father, a bespectacled, short-bearded man with a bit of a belly, and the mother, a petit woman with the same exact red tresses as her daughter. Roslin was, in fact, an exact image of her mother, but for her taller height and green eyes instead of her mother's brown ones.

Colette waited for their conversation to come to a close. In a couple minutes, Roslin excused herself from her parents, and came over to Colette. "Your mother looks just like you," Colette told Roslin.

"Yes? Everyone says that, but I don't see it."

"Yes."

There was a long pause.

"That's weird," Roslin broke the silence.

"What?"

"We haven't done that weird awkward silence thing in ages."

"Hmm," Colette understood. "This whole day is weird." They had had this conversation before. "We've been roommates for two years now. It's weird that we won't be anymore. You're going to the south of the country on holiday with Charles and your family, and – and!" she couldn't continue.

Roslin finished, "_And_ you will stay with your oldest sister until you find work. Which will take you no time, we've had this convers— are you _crying?!_ What's wrong with you?"

Colette grabbed Roslin's hand and pulled her outside onto the entrance of the building, where there was more quiet. "I won't have to stay at Francine's for long! Gusteau as good as offered me a position in his kitchen!"

Roslin's jaw dropped, "Get out! When?" she squealed.

"Just now! He said I should visit and he likes encouraging new talent or something! He said he thinks I'll do well! Remember that boeuf bourguignon I made last week at work? He was the customer, and he liked it!"

"_Mon dieu_, congratulations!" Roslin reached for her friend and pulled her into a tight embrace. She felt Colette's back shudder with more tears. "Hey! We've talked about this, remember? We will write and phone each other all the time and maybe even meet up on weekends and holidays. Don't worry! And stop crying, it really freaks me out when you cry."

She stopped. "Oh, you're right..." Colette said, surprised at herself.

They knew they'd see each other again.


End file.
